


A Cross-Gen Christmas

by tealeaf523 (ConstantComment)



Series: HP Rarepairs [5]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Age-disparity, Christmas, Cross-Generation Relationship, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantComment/pseuds/tealeaf523
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scorpius groaned loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose and shooting a glare at his former classmate and best friend, Hugo Weasley, who was smiling winningly with his hands clasped in front of his chest in a comical mimicry of a prayer. In this case, though, Hugo <i>was</i> praying—begging, in fact—that Scorpius would come with him to the Potter-Weasley Christmas gathering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cross-Gen Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicevenn on Livejournal](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nicevenn+on+Livejournal).



Scorpius groaned loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose and shooting a glare at his former classmate and best friend, Hugo Weasley, who was smiling winningly with his hands clasped in front of his chest in a comical mimicry of a prayer. In this case, though, Hugo _was_ praying—begging, in fact—that Scorpius would come with him to the Potter-Weasley Christmas gathering.

"Really, Hugo. I can't. I really—"

"Please, Scorp. I'll stab myself with a liquorice wand if I have to spend more than five minutes of uninterrupted conversation with a Quidditch team of Gryffindors."

"Don't waste a perfectly good sweet on that," he retorted, stalling. Instead of looking Hugo in the eye, he went to the icebox to grab a butterbeer and spelled the top off, turning around only to bump right into Hugo, who'd been trailing him like a sad puppy.

"You're my best mate, Scorpius Hyperion," Hugo hissed, daring to use Scorpius' middle name like he was Scorpius' mother, which meant that he'd actually achieved exasperation. He got whiney like that when he didn't get his way. One would think the Malfoy of their Dynamic Duo would be the spoiled brat, but no. Hugo Weasley was a whinging little prick sometimes, and this time Scorpius did not fail to tell him so.

Hugo would not be deterred, though. "You're my second! I _cannot_ survive another annual family Christmas party without you!" Hugo seemed to think on this for a moment. "However did you worm your way out of eleven years of Christmas parties?"

"Hugo…" Scorpius sighed and took a swig of butterbeer. "How long are you expected to attend?"

Hugo threw his hands up in the air and whooped in victory, clearly ignoring the question in favour of what it meant overall. "Be ready in twenty minutes. That'll give you time to 'fix' your hair!" He trotted out of the kitchen with a laugh, skidding on his sock-clad feet.

"Oh, come on, you can't insult me just after I've agreed to do you a bloody favour!" Scorpius took another gulp of butterbeer and grimaced.

"You owe me anyway, Scorp. Remember that horrid double date you forced me to attend with Celeste?" Hugo shouted as he walked from his room, carrying his boots in one hand and flopping onto the sofa. "And all for naught. You brought along that ridiculous Harry Potter look-alike with the fake spectacles. He spent the entire night talking about himself."

_That ridiculous Harry Potter look-alike with the fake spectacles._

Scorpius leaned on the doorjamb of the kitchen, watching Hugo struggle into the boots with a queasy stomach. He said nothing, though, before taking his drink into the loo and setting it on the sink, peering at himself in the mirror.

"Looking fantastic as usual," the mirror said tonelessly.

"You're cheerful," Scorpius muttered back, poking a bit at the bags under his eyes. He thought about the last time he'd seen the Weasley family. He'd been drunk off his arse on Hugo's birthday, embarrassed himself thoroughly in front of Mrs. Weasley, made Mr. Weasley guffaw, and had hugged the toilet for the rest of the night. He hadn't remembered much afterward, but Hugo had not failed to tell him all about it. In the morning, he'd sworn off drinking, but had been secretly (very secretly) glad of his incapacitation when it had kept him from seeing Professor Potter, who'd stopped by to wish Hugo a fantastic twenty-second year. He turned the faucet and splashed some water over his face before performing a tousling spell on his hair. He was wearing his only festive sweater already, the dark blue one with the tiny snowflakes around the neckline, having come from a Christmas lunch with his Great Aunt Andromeda, so he'd look all right, he supposed. It couldn't get worse than what had happened his seventh year at Hogwarts, anyway.

Scorpius Malfoy had been a prodigy of Defence Against the Dark Arts during his years at Hogwarts, and Professor Harry Potter had not ignored that fact. With the steady attention and praise from such an esteemed wizard, combined with an inferiority complex seemingly inherited from his father, Scorpius had developed quite a crush on his teacher, and had fancied himself quite in love. He'd always known he was gay, but had never been particularly gay for Harry Potter until seventh year, when his professor had offered him private tutoring. Unfortunately, that had ended around February that same year, when he'd made a huge mess of things after several months' worth of consuming infatuation. They hadn't spoken since.

Luckily he hadn't been emotionally ruined forever, just for the remaining months of school. He'd had the help of his best mate, Hugo, for that. The poor bloke had sat through the month of crying, and after that the month of belated pubescent angst (that apparently his body had missed out on when he was fourteen), all with a forced cheerfulness and the promise that Scorpius would owe him big time for the rest of his life. Hugo had liked him enough even after that to rent a flat with him in Wizarding London, where he'd started working for the Prophet while Scorpius waited for his acceptance letter from the Ministry. Scorpius had gotten more N.E. than qualified him for a position with the Aurors, and had just this year landed a spot in their research division.

"Hey," Hugo called down the hall. "I'm going to take Grandma our champagne. Since _you don't drink anymore_ and it's wasted on me. That okay?" Hugo's reflection popped into view. "You look fine. You feel fine?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Oh, stop moping. We're taking the Floo."

"Yes, your highness."

center-x-x-x-/center

The party wasn't what Scorpius could call a flop, but neither was it a cauldron of fun. He did like watching people, though, especially large families such as these, considering he'd grown up in his big old house as an only child with loving but reserved parents. The Potter-Weasley family, all twenty-five of them not including might-as-well-bes, was loving but teasing, raucous and as reserved as a bottle of Rita Skeeter's nail lacquer. However, like his parents he was reserved and often felt over-stimulated in large crowds, often didn't like to make a spectacle of himself. In other words, he didn't like exerting too much effort unless it benefitted him. He was Slytherin, after all, but in this case, being noticed didn't benefit him much.

Thus, Scorpius had spent most of the night trying to blend in with the wallpaper, nursing a spiced pumpkin juice while he watched Hugo spar with his older sister by two years, Rose. She'd been Head Girl in her time at Hogwarts and also a dreaded Gryffindor, as most of the Weasleys were. The Potter-Weasleys, however, had all landed in the three other houses, James in Hufflepuff, Al in Ravenclaw, and Lily in Slytherin. She'd just graduated last year, if Scorpius was right in thinking…

His eyes scanned the room once again as he sipped from his Christmas mug, once again falling on the sloped shoulders of his former Professor, who was now exchanging wide smiles with Mr. Weasley. He mock-punched the taller man before taking an offered eggnog from Grandma Weasley and walking toward Scorpius.

Harry Potter had arrived late, as usual, but had not made any overt efforts to chat with Scorpius, his once prized student in Defence. But of this Scorpius was glad. And mortified, as well, because that meant Professor Potter was probably thinking the same thing when they'd shaken hands an hour ago.

"Scorp," the older man chirped when he reached the mantle Scorpius was leaning against. He knocked his mug against Scorpius' before taking a gulp of eggnog. He'd stopped wearing his ring in fifth year, Scorpius remembered, months after his and Ginny's terrible divorce. Scorpius hadn't even checked to see if Ginny was present, but by Harry's easy posture, he could tell she hadn't bothered.

"Evening, Professor," Scorpius grinned with false bravado. Up close Scorpius could see the greys peeking out over his ears, the crinkling laugh lines on his face. Harry Potter would be forty-seven next July.

"Oh, God, Scorpius, don't call me that. I'm not your professor anymore!" he laughed, clapping Scorpius on the arm. He'd always been very tactile—squeezing and patting when he was pleased, or particularly empathetic, or had made a new friend. That was one of the things that had led Scorpius so astray. "Taking a break?"

"A bit of a Weasley overdose," Scorpius muttered, finishing off his juice and setting the mug on the mantle. Which was a terrible idea because now he had nothing to do with his hands. He shoved them into his pockets.

"Mind if I join you? It still hits me hard sometimes. I'm not used to so much…" he paused, searching for a word before quirking his lips, "so much love in one room."

Scorpius snorted. "Malfoy Christmases are a little different, I must say."

"I bet they are."

"How—how've you been, Harry?"

"Good. Very good. 'M enjoying the break from the students of course, catching up on reading. Getting a good fly around the pitch every now and again." Harry bobbed on the balls of his feet for a second. "And you? How has your job been going? I heard from Hugo that you'd applied to the Spell Research division in the Aurory."

Scorpius smiled bashfully, happy that Harry had been keeping up, if not directly, with his achievements. "I got in. I started in October with Susan Bones—you know her, right? I'm her assistant."

"That's great to hear! Invented anything yet?" Harry winked.

Scorpius took that to mean, 'Have you showed her any of your spells yet?' and shook his head. "Now's not the time. We're working on a what's essentially a redirecting defensive spell right now. You block the curse like a regular old Protego but you can aim it anywhere you like. Like an instantaneous slingshot. It's taking longer than Susan expected."

"That's amazing, though! Send me the literature, will you? I'd love to learn more about it." He shook his head in amazement. "It's so good to hear you've gone far. God, I miss your innovative streak."

Scorpius preened inwardly, scratching the back of his head. Harry was sometimes so open with his praise that Scorpius sometimes felt angry he'd misinterpreted it those years ago, that Harry had been surprised when Scorpius had… admitted his feelings for him. "Any Defence prodigies this year?" he asked.

"Not really. I've a feeling there won't be another you for a while," he sighed, sipping his drink. "One in a million, you are."

"Thanks, Harry."

They stood in silence for a moment, and Scorpius itched with the knowledge that they were both thinking along the same lines.

"Listen… Scorp…" Harry trailed off before he'd begun, but Scorpius knew what was coming.

"I'd prefer not to talk about it, if it's all the same to you."

"Wait, though. It's not the same to me. I'd like to apologize," Harry replied, setting his mug down and gesturing plaintively with his hands.

"It was five years ago," Scorpius grumbled, looking away. "It's fine."

"Yeah, well, it's obviously not, because we haven't spoken in since and you still—even now we're talking and you've got this mask on." His jaw tightened around his frustration.

Scorpius felt the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes. He grimaced before offering, "I'm sorry. I'm embarrassed to be in the same room as you. I was young and foolish and it's hard talking to you the same way when you broke my heart."

"Fuck," Harry muttered and a hand through his hair.

"Look, if we have to hash this out, can we talk about it somewhere else?" Scorpius snapped.

center-x-x-x-/center

When they had finally stepped off the porch, the night air seized Scorpius' lungs with its chill. He hunched his shoulders and pulled the sleeves of his jumper over his wrists, trying to trap the warmth of the house close to his body. The stars were outshone by the moon, tonight, which lit the surrounding hills of the Burrow with a strange white-dark glow.

"I couldn't not break your heart, Scorp, you were my _student_ ," Harry muttered from behind him.

"I understand," Scorpius sighed raggedly, and when Harry looked unconvinced, he continued, "I do. That's not really what I'm embarrassed about."

"You've nothing to be embarrassed about, Scorp," he said softly. "I understand, too. I understood. You wanted me to see you as an adult, as someone desirable, and God damn it, I shouldn't have treated you as a favourite. I always hated that in my teachers."

"Don't. I loved that you did that. I loved that one person thought I was worth paying attention to, in the sea of students at Hogwarts you picked me. You gave me an opportunity and taught me so much. I loved that."

"Of course you did. You loved me."

"I was infatuated with you."

Harry scoffed. "Same difference."

Frustration bubbled up in Scorpius' stomach with that remark, until the one thing that he'd overanalyzed in the months following their falling out came spilling out. He leaned heavily on the railing lining the front steps, folding his arms tightly and looking, if not directly at Harry, then in his general direction. He ended up staring hard at the laces of his boots. "It's just hard trying to have a normal repartee with you knowing I propositioned you like that," Scorpius said, voice choked when he tried to laugh.

"God."

"Yeah," Scorpius muttered.

Harry cleared his throat.

Scorpius frowned miserably.

"You… you were so sexy that night," Harry whispered roughly, glancing at him when Scorpius' head had snapped up.

Even in the poor light, Scorpius could tell he was blushing. "No bloody way," Scorpius said flatly.

"No, I assure you, you were."

"No, I mean. You cannot be seriously suggesting—"

"Fuck, of course I am, Scorpius. You have no idea how much of a gem you are."

"Merlin's saggy, mouldy y-fronts," Scorpius exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"Shut up," Harry growled.

Scorpius stood upright and seized Harry's face, pressing a kiss firmly on his frowning lips. And Harry was quick to react, of course, as a great dueller would be, returning the kiss as soon as his brain had caught up to him, groaning quietly when Scorpius wove his fingers into that messy hair and grabbed hold. From there, it was easy to slip his tongue between the seam of Harry's thin, pliant lips and meet his tongue slickly, eyes fluttering closed and narrow body crowding into Harry's wider one. Harry wrapped strong arms about him and pulled him close, seeming to map out the contours of Scorpius' shoulders before settling quite chastely but lovingly in the dip of his lower back. His fingers slipped up under the jumper and the tee shirt beneath, tracing the knobs of Scorpius' spine tenderly.

"I shut up," Scorpius said dumbly after several more moments of hurried kisses.

Harry chuckled, lips dragging over Scorpius' chin, scratching against the light stubble before pressing a kiss to his ear. "You have to understand," he said, "that I couldn't ever have allowed this to happen five years ago… in any reality that we could have imagined. I wanted to, Scorpius."

Scorpius nodded, letting go of Harry's hair and pulling his arms around Harry's shoulders instead. He rested his forehead against Harry's. "I do understand."

"I'm very glad that this is happening, now, though. As much as you thrilled me then, you're even more beautiful now."

"And I'm older," Scorpius joked.

"Yes, well, a fat lot of difference that makes, considering I'm no longer forty-two."

"You're still damnably gorgeous, though." Scorpius' fingers flitted across the hair above Harry's ear, tracing the coarse peppery grey hairs.

They kissed again.

"Will you do me a favour? We can start all this over again if you'll say what you said that night," Harry said quietly, and Scorpius could tell in the set of his shoulders that he was nervous of the answer.

Scorpius grinned, emboldened. "Did you wank to thoughts of me, that night?"

Harry's breath caught and he tightened his hold around Scorpius' waist.

"Did you? Did you imagine bending me over that desk and fucking me like I'd offered? I'd even manipulated you into giving me detention, all so I could get you on your own in a setting different from out tutoring sessions, so you'd see me in a different light. I wanted so badly for you to notice me."

Harry pressed into Scorpius, who immediately noticed the hard line of his erection through their trousers. "I noticed you all right," he growled, voice gravelly with lust.

Scorpius leaned in happily, lips brushing against Harry's in a tease. "I've been so very naughty, Professor. How would you like to punish me?"

"God, Scorpius," Harry laughed weakly. "Where the hell did you get that idea?"

"I don't even remember, but if you don't take me home this second, you'll never get to punish me properly, Harry."

"My place?"

"Yes," Scorpius breathed, pressing his lips to Harry's.

"Should we say goodbye, first?"

" _Harry_."

"Yes, yes, making up for lost time and all that, they'll be there in the morning, et cetera. All right, I'm taking you home."

Scorpius smiled. "I'll have to thank Hugo for dragging me along, now."


End file.
